


ampersand

by fefedove



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Angst, Dark, M/M, POV First Person, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7226056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fefedove/pseuds/fefedove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And” connects things, forces extremes together into relationships and comparisons.<br/>Past and future. Love and hate. You and I.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ampersand

You wake up and see me staring at you listlessly. You cock your head to one side and I can see you trying to remember what happened last night, what you did, to me. 

“Daehyun,” you call softly, as if you are scared of frightening me away.

The contrast between the you from before, the you from yesterday and the you in front of me right now, disorientates me. I don’t know what to do other than grab the blankets around me, deluding myself into thinking that the warmth is refuge enough.

“I wasn’t thinking straight last night,” you tell me.

I nod, but I don’t speak. There’s nothing to say to you, nothing of use.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Your side profile is beautifully cold, as always, as you flip through a magazine, perched on the windowsill. The sun shines on you, warming you a little, and your bare feet dig into the lush carpet.

I bring a cup of tea over and you accept it, glancing up, but I look away, out the window. It is all whiteness, bare trees standing in stark contrast to the pale blue, like you in the corner of my vision.

I see you bring the cup to your mouth, steam rising to your face, and you part your lips ever so slightly, eyes still trained on me.

You take a sip, put down the magazine. “Daehyun,” you say, like an autumn breeze.

I sigh and turn to stare at the ground.

“Look at me,” you instruct, and I obey.

Your eyes are so stern, so sharp, so mesmerizing. They search my face in concern or something I cannot name. I feel naked, heart thumping, mouth dry.

“Are you okay?” you ask, low voice like warm tea.

Oh, what can I say? “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I reply, allowing some aggravation to slip into my trembling voice.

You seem taken aback, brows furrowed, eyes softening. “Sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.” I brush it off because your tone tells me that you think it was nothing and I follow your lead. “It’s in the past.”

You offer me a smile and the corners of my lips turn upwards to match. It feels so wrong.

Outside, a gust of wind blows the snow into a lazy, frenzied dance. Inside, it is quiet again, steam no longer rising from the cup.

 

~ ~ ~

 

I’m laid on the floor and you run your fingers through my hair, down my nape, and down. A tingle follows your finger, along with a chill. My back arches slightly and I can imagine your pleased smile.

“Youngjae,” I try to say, but I choke on the two syllables. A mewl escapes my mouth instead, as your pretty hands part me.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” you murmur.

And I try to say that I want you to stop, but the garbled mess comes out as a moan.

“I know you want this,” you tell me now, and you are wrong.

 _This is so wrong_ , I scream in my mind and I struggle, but you are lodged even deeper inside of me.

 

As time goes on, it all becomes the past -- a past that repeats itself in the future and never goes away. I know it is self-torture, but I don’t care. I want you, by my side.

 

~ ~ ~

 

I love you, I hate you, I’m not really sure. My heart races whenever I see you and my mind goes blank. I feel so much to both extremes and you connect them all -- the meeting point, the halfway point between desire and disgust. Fear and fascination.

Your fingers flit over my skin and I cringe, but I crave your touches like an addict.

I tell you “no” but my body says “maybe” and you turn it into a “yes” with your hunger that can never be sated. I turn away from you, ignoring your pleas, and you beg with sinful lips. I want to slap you, but you kiss my hands so tenderly and you hold me as if I am broken. And I _am_ broken, because of you, but your arms around me are the only reason why I am not in pieces.

 

But by day, we are innocent love.

We go to a get-together with our friends. Himchan smiles at me when we arrive and your hold on my hand tightens, almost imperceptibly, but I’m so sensitive to everything you do. The hellos are a canon of chirrups, ringing around me in different octave tones.

The conversations are happy and your laughter is so bright and warm. I’m captivated, falling for you once again. I lean into your touches as Junhong and Jongup recount something that happened at school. You draw circles in my back and I melt and burn in bliss.

But later, Yongguk pulls me away from you. Your touch lingers on my skin even as Yongguk takes my hand.

In a corner, he studies me and asks, “Are you and Youngjae okay?”

And what do I say? “Yes, of course.”

He doesn’t believe me, of course, and I can feel your eyes boring into my back where your hands had caressed moments ago.

“Well . . .” Yongguk shifts uncomfortably. “If anything happens, you can tell me, you know?”

But he and I both know that I won’t tell him.

I’m stubborn, as they all say.

 

~ ~ ~

 

When the snow melts a bit, we go for a walk. You are breathtaking and I sigh, a gust of cold fog momentarily obstructing my view of you.

My hand is in your hand, and so is my heart. We walk in sync and I like to think that we are perfect together, that you are perfect. But then you glance at me and say, “Daehyun, we need to talk.”

“No.”

“Daehyun,” you plead. _Why are you like this?_ is what you want to ask. I know, but I do not know how to make you understand.

You stop walking and tug at my hand, forcing me to turn towards you. We stand in the middle of the melting snow, white purity turning into murky puddles, and I really do not know. I tell you that, but you are not satisfied. Maybe that is the problem.

“Dae, I love you,” you say. “I really, really do. I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry-“

“You are always apologizing.” And I am always cutting you off, stopping you so we can always stay like this.

“Because I need you to forgive me!” Your voice, your eyes are full of emotion, tempting my own to break free.

I stare at you, taking in your features. I want to trace them with my lips and I hate it. “I don’t think I can,” I whisper. Because, as you said, you don’t understand why you must be forgiven.

 

Your endearing characteristics, your quirky habits now make me recoil in fear or disgust. I remember how they made me smile and made my heart flutter, but the feelings are tinged with something else now and I just want to get away.

 

That is when we know that the “and” connecting the two of us is stretched too thin. You try to keep me here, but I’m struggling against your hold.

 

~ ~ ~

 

I am so apathetic these days; I’m fading, can you tell?

No, you can not.

You are radiant and glowing, your aura so vibrant and blinding. You are so busy nowadays and I only see you at night, when the darkness is a blanket and your dreaming figure is peaceful. In bed, you grasp me, trapping me with unrelenting arms to your chest, your heart.

The moon pools around you in silver tears and I ask the shadows why I am still here if I can no longer feel the same things, can no longer _feel_.

They don’t answer and the stars twinkle in silence.

 

Maybe there is no answer.

But I think that I do still love you.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Now it is spring, then it is summer. You no longer ask me that question, as if it has past, but it is only buried; out of sight, out of mind.

 

When I walk into the room, you are shirtless, lounging on the couch. I see muscles rippling and my heart thumps, but I set your drink down soundlessly and settle down into your lap.

“Dae baby,” you murmur in my ear.

 _Youngjae_ , I respond in my mind.

The conversation ends without having started and I think that we have ended without a sound, but then I remember all the vulgar noises and whispers in the darkness.

Your fingers find their way under the hem of my shirt and they wander up, teasing. I want to tell you to stop, but I do not know if you will listen.

 

“Youngjae,” I say out loud, finally breaking the silence.

You look at me, surprised. Your name feels foreign as it rolls off my tongue and I can not remember the last time I called you like this.

“Yes?” you breathe, as if you can’t believe it.

I don’t look at you and my eyes land somewhere beyond your ear. “I’m sorry.” I do not know what is wrong with me. Why am I apologizing? “I don’t think I can do this anymore. This, us, you and I.”

Finally, I look at you and I wish I didn’t. You seem so crestfallen, but as if you have been expecting my words. I don’t know which is worse and I don’t linger on it because you tell me, “Everything changed after that night. I know.”

 

That night.

 

“I don’t know what was wrong with me that night,” you continue.

I try not to remember it. It’s in the past, the past, it has past. I try to live in the future, but I am trapped in the past.

And I still remember the angry lips and hungry mouth leaving marks where I do not want them to be.  I remember the cries that were ignored, _my_ cries, and the pain and the feeling of being torn apart by bodiless hands. I remember the fingers probing into where I do not want them to be. I remember the fullness and the emptiness and I wish I do not love you because I really should hate you.

 

“But I know I hurt you.”

“Yoo Youngjae.” You stop midsentence; I am cutting you off again. “You are right. You hurt me, but do you really know? You always acted as if it was nothing, and for a time, I tricked myself believing it _was_ nothing. But it wasn't and I don't know how to recover. And I don’t know why I stayed with you after that. I should have left, but I didn’t because I loved you.”

You don’t miss the past tense that slipped out of my mouth and your eyes widen before you look down. I don’t think I can continue, but I forge on. I break your heart as I sit in your lap, much like you did to me, but with much less hardness.

“I must be a masochist to stay so long with someone who raped me-“

“What?” Your pretty lips form a surprised “o” as you interrupt me this time, and I swallow hard. Your utterance has chased away my courage and your confusion is disarming.

I look back at that spot beyond you, but your hurt expression is still in my vision. “And maybe that’s the problem. I’ve tried to tell you, but you never listened. You always think you know what I want, but it’s only what you want. I can’t stand this anymore because whenever I look at you, I remember how you forced yourself on me."

“I never!” you protest. There is a storm in your eyes and I’m under a tree, waiting to be struck by lightning. “I’ve asked you what’s wrong, but you never answered! And I'm your boyfriend and I love you! How would I ever . . . ”

Your question dies off, but electricity charges the air; I can taste the thunder in the distance, acrid on my tongue. "You say you love and yet you force whatever you want on me. Why would I answer if you never listen, if you are never satisfied with my answer, if you keep asking until I change my answer, if you ignore my answer and go on as if I had agreed? What use is there if you didn't listen to my answer that night?"

"But, Daehyun . . . "

I shut my eyes, willing the rain away. “Please let me go.”

 

Your hands fall down to your side and I step out of your lap.

I turn to leave and you apologize one last time.

 

The “I’m sorry” lingers in my mind as I wonder why you think those words are enough for me to heal. Why people think mere words are enough to express the depth of hatred, of love, of pain, of anything.

Because actions are always louder than words. Because you hear but do not listen to my words, and your actions speak for themselves. Because words can be ignored, but the ghost of your touch will linger. Because whispers of love can be swept away in the sea of memories, but the scars left will never fully fade.

Because “Yoo Youngjae and Jung Daehyun” does not mean anything, in the end.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The “and” snaps in half;

we break off;

we fall away through the empty void.

 


End file.
